


Truth, Fiction, and Rose-Colored Glasses

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M, post revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: Jess and Rory work out their feelings for each other (and some other complications).





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the lightest of M's, but I rated it like that juuuust in case.

Jess tucked his chin down against the New York sleet and rounded the corner.  He heard her before he saw her, muttering curses and trying to juggle three bags of takeout and her keys.  “Need a hand?” he called and jogged up the steps to her brand new brownstone.

“Ugh, yes,” Rory grumbled and let him take the keys from her left hand.  He pushed the door open and let her in first before shutting it behind them.  Rory unceremoniously dumped her take out on the bottom stair and shrugged out of her jacket.  “Were you just in the neighborhood?” she asked.

Jess hung his canvas jacket up on one of the wrought iron hooks on the wall.  “I’ve been sent on a covert mission by the Stars Hollow Contingent.  Light bulb duty.”

“Does Luke think I don’t know how to change a light bulb?”

“No, Grannie just doesn’t want you up on a ladder.  He seems to think living in a house with nine foot ceilings is an unacceptable risk.”

“I never should have mentioned the dead bulb upstairs,” she muttered.  “I’m surprised he didn’t drive down and fix it himself.”

“Pretty sure you have your mother to thank for stopping him,” Jess replied.  He toed off his boots and followed Rory into her spacious, state-of-the-art kitchen.  The stove gleamed in the kitchen light, pristine as the day she moved in.

“Sorry, I’m starving,” Rory said, opening up a container of beef and broccoli and taking a huge bite.  “Need me to grab you a ladder?”

“You’re always starving,” he replied fondly.  “And no, I know where the ladder is.”  It was right where he left it— in the hallway outside the room that would be the baby’s, halfway between Rory’s room and the bathroom.  The baby’s room still smelled faintly like paint, and Jess had the dead bulb swapped out for a new one in the time it took Rory to get halfway through her beef and broccoli, get bored, and switch to what appeared to be pad thai.

“How did the meeting go?” he asked, rinsing his hands off in her kitchen sink.

She raised and lowered one shoulder while chewing.  “Fine, I think?  She seemed interested, but she also thinks the story needs a unifying theme.”

“You’ve got more meetings tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.  One with Hyperion, and one with Soliloquy.”

“Soliloquy is great. They trend a little darker than your stuff, but if they’re looking to branch out, you couldn’t do better.”

She smiled around a mouthful of food and then swatted at his hand when he reached for a dumpling.  “That’s mine,” she reprimanded.  “I’m eating for two, remember?”

“You’ve always eaten for two.  Now you’re eating for an army,” he teased, and she smiled.

His heart did that thing that it always did when she smiled.  He had to remember to stop doing that, because down that path was nothing good for him.  She was pregnant with another man’s baby, living in a brownstone that man had bought for her and his  _ child _ .

He knew he needed to stop, but instead he just smiled back.

 

* * *

 

_ “I’m pregnant.” _

_ “Very funny.” _

_ “It’s not a joke, Jess.  I’m pregnant.” _

_ He stared at her, the words not sinking in.  “Is it...Patrick’s?” _

_ “Who?” _

_ “The boyfriend.” _

_ “The boyfriend?” _

_ “Your boyfriend.  The one you wanted to break up with this summer?” _

_ “Oh god, him.  No, it’s not his.” _

_ “Okay then.  So what now?”  They were sitting on her mother’s front stoop— this would always be Lorelai’s house, no matter how long Luke lived there— in the unseasonably warm November air.   _

_ “So now I have a baby.” _

_ “Great plan you’ve got there,” he snarked in a vain attempt to cover his shock.  And hurt, too.  He might as well admit that he was hurt, even though it really wasn’t his place to feel like that. _

_ “You’re not going to ask whose it is?” _

_ “It’s yours," he said with a shrug.  "Pretty sure that’s how pregnancy works.  The education system didn’t fail me that badly.” _

_ “It’s Logan’s,” Rory said, because she could never, ever read a goddamn room. _

_ “How’d he take the news?”   Of course its his.  That jackass could never resist ruining Rory’s life every goddamn chance he gets, his brain hissed. _

_ “He doesn’t know yet.” _

_ “And you’re telling me first because…?” _

_ She tugged her jacket a little tighter around her middle.  “Because I had to tell someone.” _

_ “You should probably tell him,” he countered. _

_ Rory looked over towards Babette’s.  “He’s engaged.  He doesn’t want to know,” she mumbled. _

_ “Irrelevant.  It’s his kid.”    At some point in his life, Jess really needed to stop being surprised by Rory, but that day was not today. _

_ “It’ll make things complicated for him,” she protested. _

_ “Things are already complicated for you.  Spread it around.”  _

_ She leaned back and closed her eyes, her head resting against the porch railing.  “How am I going to do this?” she asked.   _

_ Jess glanced back inside the house, where Lorelai and his uncle were still bickering over her giant stack of Kardashian-related magazines.  “Tell him.  But no matter what, you won’t be alone,” he promised. _

 

* * *

 

Jess was reading through a new acquisition when his door flew open and in blew a six-months-pregnant Rory Gilmore.  “Knocking is a thing, you know,” he said drily.

“Yeah, but this is an emergency,” she said and flopped down on his couch.  “I’m stuck on chapter seven.”

“Oh, well, that’s clearly a reason for breaking all the usual rules of entering a room with the door closed.”

“Jess,” she whined, and he closed out of the manuscript.

“I have a real job, you know.  One that doesn’t involve your book.  And you have an agent  _ and _ a publisher to handle this.”

“Yeah, but I’m avoiding them, because  _ I’m stuck on chapter seven _ .  I’m supposed to have ten chapters to them tomorrow.”

“And you have?”

“Seven _ , _ ” she hissed, and Jess smothered a smile.

“Go back earlier.”

“What?”

He scrubbed a hand across his face.  This wasn’t his job, but if he didn’t want to help her, he knew how to stop.  Besides, he knew the terror of working on your first book and getting stuck.  It made the walls feel like they were closing in, and he had dealt with his first bout of writer’s block by getting on a train to goddamn  _ Atlanta _ , just because it was the first train leaving the station.  Three days feeling increasingly more depressed in a town with roads only named  _ Peachtree _ had been enough to send him back to Philadelphia with his tail between his legs, and he figured “run away for stupid reasons” wasn’t the best suggestion for Rory right now.  “Wherever you think you’re stuck— the problem is probably earlier than you think.  Go back, find the part that doesn’t work, and start over from there.”

Rory peeked out from behind her hands.  “Really?”

“Really.”

She sat up and planted her feet on the ground.  “What were you working on?”

“New acquisition for our e-book line.”

“Is it any good?”

“It’s a romance about a bored suburban housewife who turns into a vampire and starts hunting down men to have sex with and then she kills them.”

“That does not sound the least bit romantic.”

“She doesn’t kill the last one.”

“But romance?” Rory asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Technically feminist-driven erotica.  It was my mom’s idea.”

“Feminist-driven erotica was your mom’s idea?”

He barked out a laugh.  “Publishing romance novels was her idea.  She reads a million of them every month and pointed out that she’s not the only one who does that.  It’s our best selling line, actually.”

Rory frowned thoughtfully.  “Who woulda known?”

Jess smiled.  “Go back and start chapter seven over, and then email your agent and publisher and say you’ll have the chapters to them by Monday.”

“There’s no way I can have three chapters done in four days.”

“I know.  That’s why you’ll email them Monday and tell them you’ll have them in by Wednesday.”

“They’ll hate me for it.”

“Yes, they will.  But you won’t be the first writer to pull this and you certainly won’t be the last.”

 

* * *

 

_Luke called before he was halfway back to New York.  “Did you know about this?” he demanded._

_ Jess sighed.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied evenly, switching his phone to speaker and dropping it into the cupholder. _

_ “Like hell you don’t.  Rory’s moving to New York?  She’s having a baby.  She needs her mother.” _

_ “Exactly.  She’s having a baby, and she needs to do something on her own.  If she stays—” he broke off, unsure of how to continue without upsetting Luke.  “If she stays, she’s stuck,” he said finally, abandoning tact in favor of the truth.  “She loves Stars Hollow and she loves you guys, but that’s your life, not hers.  She’ll move back for the first couple of months after the baby’s born, but then she’s going back to the brownstone.  It’s New York, not Olso.  You’ll still see her all the time.” _

_ “Rory’s—” _

_ “Rory’s an adult.  And the baby’s father is moving back to New York, so this makes the most sense,” Jess argued.  He rarely sad Logan’s name— not if he could help it.  He didn’t care if Logan was trying to make it right, didn’t care if he’d left his French fiancee and convinced his dad to give him a job in the New York office.  He didn’t even really care that the nagging voice in the back of his head kept pointing out that some of this mess was on Rory.  He would hate Logan Huntzberger for this until his dying day. _

_ “What if something happens and her mother and I can’t get there right away?” Luke worried. _

_ “The brownstone he’s buying is a fifteen minute walk from mine.  I’ll be the backup until you can get to New York,” he soothed. _

_ “Buildings that old have all sorts of problems.  What if the boiler goes out?  She can’t be fixing things in her condition.” _

_ “You know she’s pregnant and not a heroine in a Victorian novel, right?  She’ll manage.  And since when would a Gilmore try and fix her own boiler?  She’ll call someone.” _

_ “Someone that will charge too much.” _

_ Jess sighed again.  “Then I’ll fix it.  I know how, remember?” _

_ There was a long, dour silence on the other side of the line.  “I knew you knew about this,” Luke grumped. _

_ “I’ll talk to you later,” Jess said with a smile. _

 

* * *

 

Jess had just sat down with the bottle when he heard the door downstairs.  It was perfect timing--he hadn’t thought Rory would be back in time for bedtime, but her meeting with her editor must have finished early and now she could put Lorelai down herself.  He got up from the rocking chair Luke had made and lifted Lorelai to his shoulder.  She made soft, sleepy noises, but she wasn’t fussing for her bottle yet.

“How did the meeting go?” he called, walking down the stairs with Lorelai half-sitting on his forearm.  Her face was tucked against his neck, and fine, maybe he liked the feeling.  But that’s just because babies were soft and squishy and cute.  Everyone liked babies, after all.  This wasn’t unique, even though he’d been fairly uninterested when his co-editor Mark brought his baby around the office last year.  “Did you sell them on cutting out the Yale years?”  

But when he could finally see the door he froze, three steps from the bottom.  “You,” he said.

Logan raised his eyebrows and took off his wool coat.  “I didn’t realize you lived here,” Logan said lightly.

“I don’t.”

“But you’re here with my daughter and Rory isn’t.”

“It's called babysitting.  What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know if she told you this, but I own this place.”

Jess narrowed his eyes.  “It’s still not yours.”

“No, but the baby you’re holding is.”

“You still haven’t said what you’re doing here,” Jess replied.  He still hadn’t moved, even though Logan was holding his hands out.  Lorelai had picked her head up at the sound of Logan’s voice but her fists were still curled into Jess’ flannel.

“I came by for bedtime.”

“Rory didn’t say anything about that.”

“I texted her an hour ago and told her I’d be over.”

Jess reached into his pocket and fished out his phone.  There it was— a text from Rory.   _ Logan hasn’t done bedtime in a few days so he’s coming over.  He has a key, so don’t grab a baseball bat if you hear the door. _  Logan still had his hands out and Jess had no other excuse, so he let him take Lorelai.  “Knock yourself out.  Bottle’s upstairs and Rory will be home at 9:30.  Oh, and she likes it when you sing to her when you’re feeding her.”

“I know that.  But You don’t strike me as the lullaby type,” Logan smirked.

“Anything’s a lullaby if you sing it to a baby,” Jess bit out.  Logan hefted Lorelai a little higher on his hip and with a tight nod, he went back upstairs.  

Jess left.  
  


* * *

 

_“You seem awfully sure it’s going to be a girl,” Jess said.  He reached out and picked up a light yellow paint chip.  “What about this?”_

_ Rory made a face.  “Too rubber ducky.  And of course it’s a girl.” _

_ “You haven’t had the ultrasound that tells you that yet, right?” _

_ “I don’t need one.  It’s a girl. Mom and Grandma both agree.” _

_ “Right, I forgot about the patented Gilmore telepathic ultrasound.  What about this one?” _

_ “That’s too...butter.” _

_ “Too butter?” _

_“Too butter,” Rory confirmed, even though that explained nothing.  She picked a soft pink instead.  “This one could be nice.”_

_“It could be a boy, you know.”_

_ “Boys can like pink.” _

_“True,” he agreed.  “Any ideas on names yet?”_

_ “Her name is Lorelai,” Rory said simply. _

_ “Again, could be a boy.” _

_ “Then he’ll be Lorelai Richard instead of Lorelai Emily,” she said, and plucked out a yellow that was practically identical to the one he’d chosen first.  “And I’m going with this one.” _

* * *

 

“You have a conference call at two and a meeting with the printers at four, but that’s it for today,” Sarah finished.

Jess nodded as he walked down the hallway, Sarah’s heels clicking beside him.  “What about your manuscript?” he asked his editorial assistant.  “When do I get to read it?”

“When it doesn’t suck,” she laughed.  “Oh, and there’s someone here to see you.”

“Sounds mysterious.”

“He didn’t give a name— just said he was an old friend,” Sarah replied.  “I let him wait in your office while the meeting finished up.  Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Jess said.  “But if he murders me, you’re footing the bill to clean the carpet.”

“Deal,” she said, and with that Jess walked into his office.

Of course, because the man was nothing less than an unwelcome parasite, his visitor was Logan.   “Didn’t realize you were branching out into fiction,” Jess said without breaking his stride.  “Let me guess— you’re here to pitch a novel about a washed up English professor who discovers a new creative drive that just happens to coincide with his affair with a nubile young coed.”

“I’d never use the phrase ‘nubile young coed.’”

“But that is what you’re pitching, isn’t it?  Sorry, we have a strict ‘no pathetic rich dudes trying desperately to remain sexually viable’ policy here.  My assistant can see you out.”  He walked to a filing cabinet and opened it, just so he could put his back to Logan.  The man made his blood boil.  If the elder Lorelai was here, she’d make a sound like steam coming from his ears.  If Luke was here, he’d deck the guy.

But Rory liked the jackass, so he kept his temper in check.  Mostly.  “I’m here to talk about Rory,” Logan said.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“You seem to be harboring some resentment towards me,” Logan said in that same patronizing tone.

“Oh, good catch.  Sorry, but guys who knock someone up while engaged to someone else aren’t exactly my favorite type,” Jess hissed.

“Rory was there too,” Logan pointed out.

“Don’t care.”

“Why, because you love her?”

“Because Rory has been my friend for years.  You’re just a jackass who thinks he can buy his way out of things.”  Jess slammed the filing cabinet shut and whirled around.  “So what do you want?”

“I said, I’m here to talk.”

“Then talk.”  He crossed his arms and glared.

Logan sighed in exasperation.  “You know I asked her to marry me, right?”

“Sure, wanting to marry her a decade ago makes everything fine.”

“No, last year.  Once I found out.  I asked her to marry me, and she said no.  Again.”

“Excuse me while I go shed some tears.”

“What I’m saying is, I’m trying okay?” Logan said.  He rested his ankle on his knee and leaned back, perfectly relaxed in spite of everything.

Jess wanted to rip his head off.  “You want a cookie?”

“No, I want a chance to— to coexist.  Lorelai is my daughter, like it or not.  I’m in her life and so are you.”

“Being a parent means more than two weekends a month,” Jess sneered.

Logan’s nostrils flared— he must have struck a nerve.  “I’m trying,” he repeated.  “And I swear, I’ll always be there for Lorelai.”

“Being there requires actually being there, not just hiring someone to do it for you.  Did you know she had a cold last month?”

“Rory told me.  I was in Beijing— can’t exactly come home every time my kid gets the sniffles.”

“That’s just it though— you weren’t there.  You can’t be, because daddy’s business is always going to come first.”

“I moved—”

“You moved to New York, yeah yeah yeah.  Such a tremendous sacrifice.”

“Interesting that you’re furious with me for the arrangement Rory set up.”

“This has nothing to do with Rory.”

“Doesn’t it?”  Logan tilted his head and Jess curled his hands into fists.  “I’m reasonably sure this has everything to do with Rory.  Maybe you should talk to her about it instead of hating me for it.”

“Is that all?” Jess asked.

Logan rolled his eyes and stood up.  “Apparently.”

For the second time in a week, they parted without another word.

 

* * *

_Jess typed, deleted, and then retyped a sentence.  It had been ages since he’d taken the time to write, but Rory had pointed out that she would be spending the day writing so he might as well join her.  He was ensconced in a plush arm chair while she sat cross legged on her sofa.  Late winter sunlight streamed in through the bay window and every few minutes Rory would reach forward to grab another red vine from the cannister on the coffee table.  She’d eaten at least a dozen by this point, and Jess’s lips twitched into a smile each time she reached forward._

_The shadows on the floor had shifted by the time they decided to swap laptops and read each other’s progress.  Jess snorted quietly at Rory’s chapter— mostly about hijinks in Stars Hollow, which was really the only town where “hijinks” was an appropriate descriptor— and she read his seriously, tapping away at the keyboard as she added a few comments._

_ This was what he adored about her: they could just be.  He could sit in her presence, no pretense, and write.  And he could let her see his writing, which he still could barely show to his editor.  He liked that she trusted him enough to let him read her things— he’d done a pass on her New Yorker piece too— and he liked her voice.  He liked writing with her, he liked talking with her, and he liked just...being with her. _

_ He’d spent a long time pretending like what he had with Rory wasn’t lightning in a bottle.  He was an ass to her in high school, and he’d probably never fully live that down.  He’d gotten better, though.  And they were friends now— good friends.  Friends who could trust each other, who could tell each other when they’d fucked up, who could rely on each other when the chips were down. _

_He had spent a decade telling himself he’d find that with someone else but here he was, wishing he could kiss her the top of her head instead of patting her shoulder when he got up to refill their coffee.  (Yes, she was drinking coffee and eating Red Vines.  He’d grumble about it being terrible for the baby, but he was already dangerously close to Luke Danes territory as it was.)  He’d dated in the last decade, even fallen in love twice (once for real, and once because he just...needed to be in love to prove something to himself.  It ended about as well as you’d expect), but if he was honest with himself, nothing ever quite matched up to Rory Gilmore._

_There wasn’t anyone else for him, and he was beginning to suspect that was a problem._

* * *

He was working on her sink— to save Luke the trouble of driving to New York, and to keep that jackass from offering to pay to fix everything— when everything came out.  Lorelai was napping and Rory had ducked into the other room when her phone rang.

She came back looking furious.  “You fought with Logan?”

Jess had looked up when she returned, but now he laid his head back underneath the sink.  “He came to see me yesterday.”

“You told him he was a shitty father?”

Technically, he hadn’t said  _ that _ .  But that was the gist and Jess had a feeling that being pedantic wouldn’t do him any favors right now.  “I said what I said.”

“Jess—”

He gave one last tighten to the pipes and crawled out.  He didn’t want to have this fight with her, but now that the wheels were in motion he couldn’t find the brakes.  Or maybe he didn’t want to, because he was realizing more and more that he was turning into Luke, and he had to find a way to end this cycle.  Maybe he wasn’t as over her as he’d wanted to be, but he couldn’t do this for another fifteen years. “What is it with you two, anyway?” he snapped.  

“It’s our business.”

“Is it?  Because it's turning into mine too.”

“If you mean the other night, he was just being— ”

“A father.  Yeah, I know.  I get it— he’s Lorelai’s dad when it suits him.  Do you have  _ any _ idea how much that sucks?” 

Rory’s eyes went cold.  “I do, in case you’ve forgotten.  Which is why I  _ know  _ that isn’t what he’s doing.  He’s doing his best and I’m doing mine, and when she’s older—”

“ — why didn’t you marry him?” Jess interjected.  “Why the hell are you doing this?  You were with him, and that was enough for you, but suddenly you have a kid and it’s not?”

“That’s not fair,”  Rory said.  “And not what happened.”

“Then  _ what happened?” _  He’d only gotten the pieces of the story she wanted to share, because that’s how it was with them— she chose and he accepted.  It had to stop.

“He wasn’t enough!” she yelled.  Upstairs, Lorelai started to wail and Rory turned to go and then rounded on him.  “I ended it before I knew I was pregnant, because I knew— I knew it wouldn’t work. I knew what I felt about him, and I knew-- I knew what I felt.”  She pressed a hand to her forehead and part of him wanted to go get Lorelai for her, but that wasn't his place.  “He’s not my father, okay?” she said, her voice rough with sadness.  “He’s different.  He is.”

Lorelai kept crying and Jess wiped his hands on a rag.  “I can’t do this,” he said, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he meant the fight or just...them.  Either way, it was true.  It felt too heavy, too unfixable.  “Go get her.  I’ll let myself out.”

Rory’s eyes welled with tears, but she went upstairs and he locked the door behind him.

Maybe for good.

 

* * *

 

_It was easier than he thought it would be, seeing her in the hospital.  She was wan but happy, and Lorelai— the elder, and he’d have to get used to that distinction now— was bouncing around the room, talking faster than he thought possible, even for her.  Emily was holding Lorelai in her arms, smiling softly, and Luke was haranguing a nurse about a squeaky wheel on the baby’s cart.  He calmed his uncle with a hand to his shoulder and faced Logan, who was perched on the edge of her bed.  They shared a friendly-ish nod, which was about the most he could muster._

_ “Everything okay?” he asked Rory, and she nodded happily. _

_“Grandma, can Jess have a turn?”_

_ “Has he washed his hands?” she asked, not unkindly. _

_ When he confirmed that he had, Emily waited until he settled onto the couch and then gently placed Lorelai in his arms.  She was tiny and a little shapeless, with puffy eyelids and a mouth that didn’t seem to close all the way.  She had a thatch of dark hair, and dark blue eyes that were already 24 hours old. _

_ For the second time in his life, Jess realized he loved a Gilmore girl. _

 

* * *

 

[ _ rory.gilmore@gmail.com _ ](mailto:rory.gilmore@gmail.com)

_ Jess, _

 

_ I don’t know what else to say, except that I know I don’t want to lose you.  Maybe I don’t get to want that anymore, but it’s true. _

_ If nothing else, you deserve to read this chapter.  I owe you that much. _

 

Jess got up and closed his office door.  His palms were unaccountably sweaty when he returned to his computer and opened up the document.

 

_ Chapter Twelve _

 

_ If Sam taught me how to feel safe and Cary taught me to take risks, Jack showed me what it meant to be inspired.  I was always at my best with him, and even when I felt like the pedestal he placed me on sometimes was too high, I always wanted to be the person he seemed to believe I could be. _

It was all there— their first kiss, the car crash, even the fight about Yale.  It was hard to read some times, not because of her writing but because it was so...raw.  It was real, and the emotion jumped off the page.  It was also surprisingly difficult to see himself through her eyes, because he never knew she saw him like that.

Because Jack was... _ good _ .  He was flawed and human, and sometimes a downright asshole, but somehow, Rory had managed to capture a streak of warmth he wasn’t sure he really had.

And then, he reached the end.

_ I’ll be honest: I’m not sure I deserve Jack in my life.  He’s been with me through so much now, and even when I was off living my life and he was off living his, I always felt connected to him.  When we’d see each other there was no buffer zone, no time to get back onto the same page.  My connection with him is so easy it’s almost frightening, and I think I take advantage of that sometimes.  But no matter what, I’m grateful for him. _

Jess ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes.   _ Is this what it’s like for her? _ He wondered.  He could never, ever live up to the Jack on the page, and suddenly, her line about being on a pedestal felt visceral, like he was a split second away from toppling off of it.  Or maybe he already had, and that was why it hurt so much.

He checked his phone for the time— 4:13pm.  Close enough to the end of the day that he could slip out, and if Rory was keeping to her usual writing schedule, she should be ensconced in her writing nook in the living room.

He caught a glimpse of her through the bay window as he walked up the steps, her dark head bent over her computer, her fingers tapping diligently away.  He knocked— softly, because Lorelai was probably still sleeping— and saw her start a little as he interrupted her reverie.

Rory’s face was a careful mask when she opened the door.

“Can I...come in?” he asked, and she stepped aside.

“I’m sorry,” they blurted out simultaneously, and then both stopped and smiled awkwardly. “You first,” they said in unison again, and then Rory laugh-sighed and sat down on the stairs, her head in her hands.

He took the spot next to her because it was easier to look at the door than at her.  But he could feel her warmth, right next to him— close, but metaphorically out of reach.  “I’m sorry,” he said lowly, carefully.  “I think— I think I got jealous.”

“Of Logan?”

He snorted a little.  “No, of Miss Patty.  Yes, of Logan.”

That got a wry smile out of her, but he looked away quickly.  “I probably didn’t help.  I just— I knew you’d be there for me and I knew what it meant, but I was...scared.  You believe in me so much, and I want to be that person, but sometimes I’m not.  I screw up, you know.  Big time.  And you’re always there for me when I do, and I don’t know how to…I don’t know how to be the person you want me to be.”

“I just want you to be you,” he said.  “But I can get a little...overzealous.”

“A little?” she said, and this time he didn’t look away from her teasing grin.

“You’re the one who wrote that chapter, you know.  Don’t tell me I’m the only one here with some rose colored glasses on.”

Rory cocked her head and he fought the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear.  “I’ll have you know that is the god’s honest truth, coming from a real reporter.”

“You made me seem like a good guy.”

“You are.”

“Now, maybe.  But...not then.”

“You were a kid, Jess.  We both were.”

“And now we’re not,” he said, and the truth of it struck him.  They’d both grown so much since high school, but some things just never changed.  He loved her, and denying it and pretending they could be just friend wasn’t sustainable.  “Rory, I have to—” he started, but she put her fingers to his lips.

“Not yet.  I have to say it first,” she said, and he nodded slowly.  She took her hand away and looked down.  “I love you,” she whispered to her lap.  “I love you, and I took you for granted.  And I’m sorry.”

He lifted his hand and fit it delicately around her jaw, tipping her face up so he could look her in the eye.  “I love you too,” he said, leaning in.

She met him halfway and kissed him, careful and soft.  They both moved hesitantly at first, exploring each other, getting reacquainted, and then all of that fell away, replaced by hunger.  He leaned forward and pressed her back to the railings and she wound her fingers into his hair, tugging in a way that went straight to his groin.

Jess groaned against her lips, their foreheads pressed together, and Rory took his face in her hands.  “Upstairs?” she whispered with kiss-swollen lips.

“Upstairs,” he confirmed.

As a teenager, he’d dreamed of having sex with Rory Gilmore.  But nothing could compare to what it was like to actually be with her, feel her skin underneath his hands, hear the small noises she made.  It was perfect and new and perfect, but also real in a way he’d never really let himself consider.  She wasn’t a goddess and he wasn’t unworthy of her— they were just themselves, and they loved each other.

After, Rory rested her head on his shoulder and drew idle circles on his chest until soft squawks started sounding from Lorelai’s room.  “Sounds like the munchkin is awake,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to the top of Rory’s head.

“I’ll go get her,” Rory said with a reluctant groan.  She arched her neck up for a languid kiss and then broke away, searching the floor for her clothes.  “Want to order Indian for dinner tonight?”

He gave her a lopsided smile.  “You’ll have the burn the house down to get the smell out,” he teased.  “But that sounds great.  I’ll call Taste of India while you feed her.  Tikka masala?”

“And palak paneer.  Oh, and some samosas.”

He shook his head fondly and let her kiss him one last time.

Jess wondered if he would ever stop smiling.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Why is Jess living in New York now? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ (Because it worked better for the plot, mostly.)


End file.
